Frati
by paganpunk2
Summary: Who says you can't choose your blood kin? Two-shot, Dick/Wally bromance, Dick/Tim family bonding, with a dash of Batman for good measure. No slash, although if you want to squint you could read it as pre-slash. Contains ritual bloodletting.
1. Chapter 1

Wally poked his head into the lounge and frowned. "Dude," he addressed the figure whose feet he could see dangling over the arm of the couch, "you know it's like two in the morning, right?"

"Uh-huh," Robin mumbled in reply.

"So…maybe you should go to bed?" he suggested as he drew near.

"Not tired." The book that lay open on the cushion in front of him held his attention so thoroughly that it took him a second to react when fingers began tickling his unguarded toes. "Gah, Wally, stop!" he complained, yanking away. "I'm trying to read here!"

"Okay, okay," the speedster agreed grudgingly, ceasing his torture. "…You, ah, didn't have a nightmare or something, did you?" he asked in a low voice, coming around to sit on the floor near the other teen's elbow.

"No."

"…Would you tell me if you did?"

"No one else is listening, so yes. I would tell you." He turned a page. "Only you," he added quietly.

"Yeah, I know, bro. Just…making sure, I guess."

"It's cool." _You're the only one who knows who I am, _he reflected silently. _The only one I tell everything to. That's not likely to change, so quit worrying._ "What's with you?"

"Dunno. I was asleep, then I wasn't."

"…Bad dream?" _I'm not the only one who gets them, after all,_ he conceded.

"No, just…this weird feeling that I needed to be somewhere other than in bed," the redhead shrugged. "It's gone now, though."

"Well, maybe this is where you're supposed to be, then," he said vaguely as he studied a woodcut of a man dressed in a flowing cape and brandishing a heavy walking stick.

"Yeah, sure," Wally, ever the skeptic, snorted. "What'd you do, send your patronus in to wake me up and lead me to the lounge?"

"Nope. I was perfectly happy reading all by lonesome. Not saying I want you to leave or anything," he tacked on quickly. "I didn't mean it like that. Besides, I left my wand at home this weekend."

"Hah." The older boy craned his neck awkwardly, trying to see the book. "What are you reading about, anyway?"

"Hajduks."

"_Huh_? That sounded like a sneeze."

"No," he shook his head. "I said, 'hajduks.'"

"What the hell are you reading about high dukes for? I thought you finished your homework last night."

"I did. This is for fun. And they aren't 'high dukes,'" he corrected. "They're hajduks."

"That sounds _exactly_ the same, Rob."

"No, it really doesn't."

"Maybe not to _you_, mister I speak a bajillion languages," he rolled his eyes. "So what is that, anyway? A high duke?"

"Stoned nobility."

"…Dude, not cool," he frowned.

"Oh, you want to know what a _hajduk_ is? Not a high duke?" he said innocently.

"Yes, you jerk!" he whapped him across the arm.

"Okay, okay! Okay. Actually, I think you'll like this." He repositioned himself, swinging his legs over Wally's head and down to the ground so he could sit up. "So, hajduks were kind of like Eastern European Robin Hoods."

"Aaand now I know why you're reading about them."

"They were romanticized, obviously – I guess in reality they were more like mercenaries, or sometimes guerilla fighters, than anything – but they're still really cool."

"Like how are they cool? Give me an example."

"You mean besides fighting what they considered to be oppression and injustice four centuries before we were even born?"

"Yeah."

"Hmm…there was one thing that really caught my attention, but…"

"But what? What was it?" Wally turned around, getting mildly excited. _If he doesn't want to tell me what it is, that means it's probably really, __really__ awesome._ "Rob, what was it?"

"…No, dude, you'll want to actually _do_ it, and that would just be crazy," he shook his head. "No way."

"Oh, come on, if it's _that_ crazy I won't want to do it. Give me some credit, huh?"

Robin scrutinized his friend from behind his sunglasses. "Well…okay." _He can be reasonable sometimes, after all._ "So, they had this blood pact that they would do. Soldiers, like brothers-in-arms, they would cut themselves, and let some of their blood fall into a cup. They'd mix it with wine or milk, and then they'd each drink, and…that was it. They were blood brothers, sworn to defend one another for life."

The speedster's eyes were wide as he finished speaking. "Rob. Bro. We _totally_ have to do something like that."

He sighed heavily and slumped backwards. "I _knew_ I shouldn't have told you about it."

"C'mon! Think about it," he moved up onto the couch, leaning towards the other teen eagerly. "_We're_ brothers-in-arms, right?"

"Yes, but-"

"_We're_ best friends for life, right?"

"Yes, but-"

"_We'd_ totally, you know…die for each other, or whatever, right?"

"Yes, of course, Wally, but that doesn't mean we should go drinking each other's blood."

"But if we put it in milk…"

"That doesn't make it healthy!" he cut off that chain of reasoning. "Ugh, do you know how medically unsound this idea is? Think of all the blood-borne diseases we could pass each other!"

"Yeah, but we get blood tested like once a month. If we had something, it would have turned up by now, don't you think?"

"…Well, yeah."

"Besides, we bleed on each other all the time."

"…Eew, but also technically true. Still, though. No."

"Come on, Rob. You don't want to be my blood brother?" he whined pathetically.

"Wally, you know that's not it. It's just…icky."

"'Icky?' How old are you again?"

"Fifteen. And shut up, it _is_ icky. We'd have to drink each other's blood!"

"But you're Romanian, right? So…you could be a vampire," he teased.

"First off, no, I'm not Romanian, I'm half Romany. It's totally different. Second, you know better than to talk about that here. And third, I am _not_ a vampire!"

"But…blood brothers?"

"Waaaally…" As much as the thought of imbibing blood made his stomach turn, the idealist in him loved the thought of a ritual bonding. _It would be kind of cool to know that we'd done something like that. Like a physical manifestation of how we already feel towards each other…I mean, really, short of some sort of ceremony, we already __are__ brothers, so…_ "I dunno."

"But you're thinking about it, aren't you?" the redhead grinned, sensing that he was slowly wearing down the younger hero's defenses.

"I…look, there are other rituals where you just, like, rub the cuts together," he suggested. "It's not any more sanitary, but at least then we aren't drinking blood."

"I think we have to drink it. If we just bleed on each other, how is that any different than what we've already done before?" _Although it's usually you bleeding on me, and not so much the other way around. I hate that. I wish it wasn't you who got hurt all the time..._ "C'mon, Rob. I _really_ want to do this with you." To his surprise, he felt hot tears pricking his eyes at the thought of being definitively turned down. "…Please?"

_With me,_ he repeated silently, now beginning to feel a little guilty. _He wants to do this with __me__, specifically. Crap._ "I…wouldn't you feel a little bad about leaving out Conner and Kaldur? They're our brothers-in-arms, too."

"…They're great, Rob, but it's not the same," he said, sounding a little guilty.

"…Yeah, you're right." He paused, coming to a decision. "…We'd have to cut ourselves. I read that they usually did it on their forearms. How are we going to hide that? You know someone will notice."

"Wait…you mean you'll do it?!" _Yes!_

He nodded slowly. "It just…I dunno, Wally, it just seems like something we _should_ do. Even if I am likely to throw up from it."

"Dude, do _not_ puke up my blood."

"…Wow, that was macabre."

"Seriously, though."

"If you wear long sleeves when you're in civvies for the next couple days, no one should notice _your_ cut," Robin continued trying to answer his question of how to hide what they were about to do. "I'll do the same, but if we get called out on a mission I'll have to say I nicked it in training or something. You're gonna have to back me up on that."

"Works for me."

"…Okay. Let's see if there's any milk."

"Too bad we don't have wine," Wally opined as they passed into the next room. "That would be awesome."

"We're going to be in enough trouble if we get caught doing this, let alone if we're using something neither of us can legally possess," he reminded him, leaning into the fridge. "Here we go. Still good and everything." He turned to find Wally holding a cup. "…Eager much?"

"I told you, Rob, I really want to do this with you," the speedster said with a serious mien. "I know it's doesn't actually change anything, but…it kind of _does_, at the same time."

If anyone could understand the importance of ritual and constructed loyalties, it was Robin. "Yeah," he nodded. "It does. I know what you mean." They stared at each other for a moment, considering what they were about to do. "You're _sure-_"

"Hell yes," came back flatly. "Are you?"

"…I am," he said firmly. _We're going to get ridiculously grounded if we get found out, but…it's worth it._ "Let's do this."

They worked quickly and silently, Robin pouring the milk, Wally procuring a knife from a drawer and pulling a couple of paper towels from the roll. The speedster vanished for a moment, then reappeared with a bottle of hydrogen peroxide and dumped it over the blade. Finally, they stood side by side at the counter. "So…do we cut ourselves, or…?"

"Hold on." To Wally's surprise, Robin shoved his sunglasses up and out of the way. "I'm not doing this with my eyes hidden. And I think we should cut ourselves; then it's like we're volunteering, you know? If we do it to each other there's a sense of duress. We have to both want to do this, and cutting ourselves proves that we do." _Plus, I don't really want to cut you open._

"Okay," he nodded, relieved. _I don't know if I could have managed to hurt you on purpose, anyway_. "Makes sense. I guess…I guess I'll start." _For once, let me be the first to bleed,_ he thought darkly as he picked up the knife.

"Don't go too deep," Robin warned softly as the other teen positioned the edge against the freckled skin a few inches below his left elbow.

"Right." Wincing slightly, he drew the blade downwards, a narrow line appearing in its wake. The mark was well made, just a few thin tendrils of red beginning to course as he pulled the milk close and let gravity introduce his blood to it. "…Do I put in more?" he asked after a few seconds.

"That's probably enough. I've still got to add mine, after all." Taking the weapon, he paused for a second before copying the motions Wally had made. They counted to three as the drips splashed down. "…Okay," he breathed, withdrawing and pressing a paper towel against the fresh gash. _This is the hard part. You've got to drink that._ It wasn't as if he hadn't swallowed plenty of his own blood in the past, but he'd never done so because he _wanted_ to. _And it never meant anything before_, he added. _Not like this does._

"Wait," Wally said.

"…What's wrong?"

"I just thought…Well, you said another way was to rub the cuts together. Maybe…maybe we could do that _and_ drink?"

_But why…_ "You mean like a double bond?" he guessed, peering at him.

"Well, yeah. A…a double bond. Like in chemistry, you know? The more bonds between two atoms, the stronger the hold. It's harder to break the connection."

"…You know, Wally, for someone who doesn't go in for mystical, spiritual stuff, you say some pretty deep things sometimes." As he spoke, Robin raised his own split limb, peeled the makeshift compress from it, and pushed it tightly against the other teen's. _If we're going to do this, we might as well do it as thoroughly as we can,_ he thought fiercely. "…Ready for the next step?" he asked after they scrubbed the wounds together for several seconds, Wally wincing slightly, Robin stoic.

"Yeah," the speedster answered, a little breathless with excitement.

"You cut first, so…you should drink first," the younger boy reasoned as he handed him the cup.

"…Sure." He raised the glass to lips, then lowered it with a slight frown before the mixture touched his lips. "Is…are we supposed to say something, or…?"

Robin met his gaze, eyes flushed a darker blue than usual with concentration. "Do we really need to, Wally?" he whispered. _Don't we already know everything we could possibly say?_

"No," he shook his head. "No, Dick, I guess we don't." _Don't be mad at me for using your real name, I just…it seems like I should, for this._

Their eyes stayed locked as each took a swallow. It wasn't nearly as disgusting as either of them thought it might be, although the milk did have a slightly coppery aftertaste that was unusual without being unpleasant. "I think we should finish it," Robin said as he passed the glass back. "You know…all the way to the end."

"All the way to the end," Wally toasted him. Each took two additional gulps, and then the container was empty, the rite complete.

"So…wow. We, ah…we just did that."

"Yeah," the redhead agreed. "We did…bro."

Robin grinned broadly, the last word now carrying a secret reference that only they could possibly understand. "That was pretty intense…bro," he returned, causing a similar smirk to spread across the other teen's face. Remembering that he had unmasked for their ritual, he reached up and bumped his glasses back down.

"So you're _not_ going to throw up, right?"

"No," he laughed. "I'm not. I'm…I'm sorry I hesitated, Wally."

"It's okay. I know it wasn't because you didn't want to do it," the redhead told him truthfully. "But I'm really glad we did. It…it means a lot to me. _You_…well. Yeah. You know."

"Yeah. I know. You, too." They exchanged a warm, wordless glance, full of all the things that their enculturation made it too strange to say out loud. "…You know, I think I might be a little faster now," Robin joked.

"Huh. I feel a little smarter. Weird."

"Heh." He glanced at his watch and found that nearly an hour had passed since Wally had wandered into the lounge. "We should clean this up and get to bed. We have training in five hours."

"Ugh…"

"Yup. How's your arm?" he asked as he moved to rinse the glass and the knife.

"It's more or less stopped. Yours?"

"The same." Shutting off the water, he left their dishes to be thoroughly washed later. "We should probably put some gauze or something over them, though. You know, just in case. It would be pretty stupid if our blood-brotherhood ritual gave one of us an infection."

"Yeah, you're right. I'll go get some stuff," he said, zipping off and back in a matter of seconds. They had just finished applying their bandages when the Zeta tube announced Batman.

"Oh, shit," Wally muttered.

"Relax. We cleaned up, remember? It's fine," Robin hissed. "Hi," he greeted as his mentor entered the kitchen. _Wally rolled his sleeve back down, and Bats is used to seeing me with fresh dressings. We're fine._

"…It's three in the morning," was all the man said, head swiveling back and forth between them. He'd been on duty in the Watchtower since midnight, and as was his secret habit when he was on security duty he had glanced frequently at the goings-on inside Mount Justice, verifying at regular intervals that his son was safe. As such, he had seen Wally come into the lounge and fall into an intense discussion with Robin about something that he couldn't hear. He'd wished again at that point that Superman would stop blocking his installation of microphones, but the Kryptonian insisted it was too much of an invasion of privacy. By the time they moved into the kitchen, he was intrigued, and had more or less switched to watching only the feed from the mountain. He'd witnessed the entire ceremony silently, hunched over the screen in case someone came in. Now, curious as to whether or not they would admit their activity, he decided to lead them on a little.

"It's Saturday," the sunglassed teen replied. "We were just hanging out. We were about to go to bed. What's up?"

_Wally's nervous, although he's gotten much better at hiding it recently,_ the adult hero noted. There was a faint glimmer of wetness in the sink where Robin had left their tools, and he crossed to it as nonchalantly as a man in a cape possibly could. Snagging a clean glass from the cupboard, he filled it with water and drank half before turning back to the boys. "It seemed prudent to check in."

"…Is something going on that we should know about?" _He suspects something. He doesn't like to eat or drink in front of anyone but me when he's in costume; he even avoids it when it's just Superman around. The water was just an excuse to check the sink. The question is, how much has he already figured out?_

"No."

"So…what, a surprise inspection?"

"Of sorts, yes." Placing his now-empty cup in the sink, hepicked up the knife. Examining it, he verified that there was, in fact, a barely visible rill of dried blood crusting the edge of the blade. "…This needs sharpened," he commented as he placed it back where he'd found it. "…And you may wish to scrub the blood off of it entirely next time."

Wally groaned, but Robin's face remained serene. "…I thought you had a mission with Green Lantern tonight."

"I did. It ended sooner than we anticipated, so I took a few hours of monitoring."

_Oh, hell. _"…You saw everything, didn't you?" _Of course you did. I should have known you were watching._

"Yes."

"I'm surprised you didn't stop us." Beside him, Wally was boggling; the fact that he'd known both Batman and Robin for several years wasn't enough to erase his surprise at the way they always managed to hold perfectly rational, almost emotionless conversations, regardless of the topic or whether or not there were spectators.

"…I didn't see anything that I objected to," the dark-clad man stated slowly. His mouth twitched upwards slightly as the very edge of his son's eyebrow came into view over the top of his glasses. "So there was no reason to interrupt."

The speedster couldn't stop looking back and forth between the other two. _He…he didn't see anything he objected to?_ he repeated to himself, bowled over. _Whoa._

"None at all, huh?" Robin verified quietly.

"You're far from the first two young men in history to enter into such an oath," he answered. "It's a powerful ritual, and it suits the bond between you. So long as you stick to it," he seemed to be looking directly to Wally, "I have no problem with it."

"Hey, I'm not going to do anything to break it," the redhead protested. "What's with the focus on me?" He wouldn't normally have argued with the Bat, but he took it as an insult that the man would just assume he would be the one to put the friendship he'd sworn to at risk.

"I know from experience that Robin will do everything in his power to uphold the sacred promises he makes, and that he will be cautious as to whom he enters into such contracts with," was growled back. "This is the first time I am aware of you having taken a vow of this level, however, and as such I have no way to judge how well you will keep it." He paused, drawing himself up. "Prove yourself worthy of the honor you've been given this night, Wallace." With that, he tilted a slight nod to his partner and stalked out.

"Huh," Robin said when they were alone again. "Interesting."

"'Interesting?' He thinks I'm going to screw this up, Rob!"

"No, he doesn't," he shook his head. "If he thought there was a real chance that you would go back on it – that you would betray me – he would never have let us finish. He would have stopped us. But he didn't," he marveled. "He not only let us do it, he told us that he knows. He _witnessed_ it, Wally. That's powerful. That lends it a special kind of strength."

"Really? I…I'd never heard that before."

"You get assigned enough reading about the rites and rituals of other cultures and you start to notice patterns," he shrugged with a smirk. "That's a fairly common belief, the power of a witnessed or known oath. So is the blood brother ritual. Like he said, we're far from the first people to do it."

"…Huh," it was Wally's turn to exhale pensively. "So it's like…a grand tradition."

"Yeah, in a way." He paused. "Pretty cool, huh?"

"Definitely. I can't believe he wasn't _furious_."

"I thought he would be, too. It kind of makes me wonder if he's ever…" he trailed off.

"Who would _Batman_ be blood brothers with?"

"Dunno," Robin shook his head. "I would say Superman, but…they have such a weird love-hate relationship. Still, I guess I could see that. If it was going to be anyone, I think he's probably the best candidate."

"I can't picture that," Wally snorted.

"Well, it's all speculation, anyway." He yawned. "Oh, man, I'm wiped out."

"Yeah, me too." He frowned suddenly.

"What?"

"Well…you're probably going to have a scar from this. I mean, not a really obvious one or anything, but still. A scar."

"So? That's kind of cool. I'm okay with it. It's way better than how I usually get them, and this one will actually mean something to me other than 'ouch.'"

"That's my point, though. You're gonna have a mark way longer than I will. That…that kind of sucks. I guess I could just reopen mine every few months…" Normally he loved his fast healing, but this was a scar he _wanted_ the world to see.

"Wally, no way. Don't do that. The scar isn't what matters. The _ritual_ is what matters." _The way we feel, and the way we act on those emotions, are what __really __matter,_ he added silently.

"Still…"

Robin didn't speak, thinking as they walked down the hall. "What if we renew it?"

"Huh?"

"In like, I don't know, five years or something. We can do it again, refresh it. You'll get to have a scar again for a while, and mine will probably be pretty faded by then, too. I mean, it's not like I cut super deep or anything, it's going to fade."

"…That's a good idea."

"Plan?"

"Plan." Reaching their respective doors, they bumped fists. "Night, Rob."

"Night, Wally." They beamed at one another, then spoke in unison.

"Night, bro!"

**Author's Note: I love the bromance between these two. The story title, 'Frati,' is Romanian for brothers. Robin may not be Romanian, but a lot of hajduks were, so I went with it. If you enjoyed this, I've got more Dick/Wally fluff in my story 'Of Friends and Foes,' which is posted in the Batman fandom. The second half of this story will be posted tomorrow. Happy reading!**


	2. Chapter 2

_Five years later_

Dick stretched his arms over his head, yawning. "That," he said as he popped his back with a little shudder, "was a good patrol."

"_How_ many guys did we take down?" Tim asked, shrugging off his cape and letting it fall to the floor.

"Thirty seven. That big gang hideout we hit last really put us over the top for the night."

"I think that's a new record for a Nightwing and Robin Bludhaven circuit, isn't it?"

"It's a tie."

"Oh." He paused. "…Do you want to go back out and _make_ it a record?"

The elder vigilante laughed. "Nah. We called the police to so many parts of the city tonight that all the rats will have gone back in their holes until tomorrow."

"Eh. Good point." They changed without exchanging words until Tim moved to put his costume away in the cabinet that Dick had long before designated specifically for him. Nightwing's secret room was meticulously organized, but that could only go so far to make up for the sheer lack of square footage; the teen knew it said a lot about the level of the former Robin's affections that he had his own space here, and he appreciated it deeply. Turning around, something caught his eye. "…Dick, you're hurt!" he exclaimed.

"Hmm? Oh, this? No, this isn't new," he explained as he continued to dab antiseptic gel on a three-inch slice along his left forearm. "It's not deep, either. I just _really_ don't want this one to get infected."

"But it's no problem if other ones do, or…?" he asked sarcastically.

"Well, yeah, but…this one's special."

"…Do I want to know the details? Don't tell me if you're going to ask me to keep it from Bruce, though. You know I'll try, but I'm still no good at lying to him."

"You'll get there. And actually, I think you'll really grasp what I mean when I tell you the story. But let's do it out in the living room, huh? I've got a popcorn craving."

They settled on the couch a few minutes later, a huge bowl between them. "So, tell me about this 'special' cut on your arm," Tim prodded.

"Wally," he replied simply.

"The other half of your undying bromance?"

"Yeah, that one."

"Go on."

"We're blood brothers," Dick said simply.

Tim merely blinked at him. "…Um, sorry to burst your bubble, but no, you aren't. There's no way you two are biological related in anything but the most general of senses."

"That's not what I meant." He sighed. "When I was fifteen, we did a blood brotherhood ritual together. We cut ourselves, mixed the blood, and drank it. It's an old rite that was once common in a lot of cultures, and, well…we wanted that bond. It wasn't quote-unquote perfect, by any means – hell, we did it in the Mount Justice kitchen in the dead of night, hoping we wouldn't get caught – but it was the second most important promise I've ever made."

"What was the first?" Tim asked curiously. A second later, he realized the obviousness of his question. "Oh. Right. Batman."

"Right."

"So…awesome? I guess?" he semi-winced. "I mean…you actually drank each other's blood?"

"It was in milk," Dick shrugged. "You couldn't really taste it, to be honest. It was just a funny color."

"So, what, you're sworn to each other now?"

"Yeah. Bound to support and defend one another as if we were truly blood kin. Or, you know," he added quietly, "better than blood kin."

"Better? How…?"

"You can't help who you're born to, or who else is born to them," he pointed out. "But when you _choose_ to fight for someone as if they were birthed into your bloodline, and to accord them the same respect you do yourself…that's more powerful, in my opinion."

"…Huh. I guess I can see that. Still, that was really unsanitary."

"That's what I said at the time," the elder smiled. "And it _was_, don't get me wrong, but…it was worth it, Tim. It really, really was."

Meeting his gaze, he believed him. _Wow._ _It means a lot to him, even after all this time. That's…that's amazing. I wonder what it feels like to be bound to someone like that?_ "So…I'm guessing Bruce found out? How long were you grounded?" _It was probably the only time you were ever in trouble, so I'm sure you can recall the details,_ he grinned.

"He witnessed the whole thing from start to finish. He was totally spying on us from the Watchtower the entire time. But he didn't ground me. He, ah…he said he approved, actually."

"_Really?!"_

"Well, he said he didn't object. Which, for Batman…"

"The same as saying he approves. Right." He began to rub his arm unconsciously. "You said this was five years ago, though. How did the cut get opened up again?"

"Wally pouted about not getting to have a scar for very long because of how fast he heals," Dick laughed. "So we agreed we'd redo the ritual in five years. We did it last weekend. I think I cut a little deeper this time, though; it's taking longer to close than I remember. I wasn't as nervous, I guess." _He's still scratching,_ he took note of the younger's motion._ Interesting…_

"Did you get caught this time?" Tim teased.

"No. But we had Batman witness it again." _Oh, that's adorable, _he realized._ He totally wants to do it, and he just can't quite admit it to himself, probably because he's grossed out the way I was the first time..._

"That's…freakishly cool, I have to admit. Still gross, but…pretty cool." _I don't even know that I'm close enough to anyone to ever do something like that,_ he mused. _Well…Dick. I would make that oath with him. Yeah, definitely…but he's already got a blood brother…_

"'Gross, but pretty cool' raves the boy with the subconscious tic!"

"…What are you talking about?" he asked, legitimately confused.

"You're about to scratch your arm into ribbons, that's what I'm talking about."

Tim looked down to discover that he'd been dragging his nails back and forth across a small section of his left forearm, just below his elbow, long enough that the epidermis was becoming raw. "Oh," he blushed. "Guess I didn't realize."

Dick leaned back against the arm of the sofa and considered the teen across the popcorn bowl from him. _Yeah. I don't see a conflict here._ "Hey, Timmy?"

"Yeah?"

"…You want to do it?"

"What?!"

"Do you want to do it," he repeated, tapping beside the healing line on his own arm. "The ritual."

_No way. _"You mean…with you?"

"Yeah. With me." He paused. "It's okay if you _don't_, Tim. I won't be hurt."

"No, no, I just…can you _have_ more than one?" he wrinkled his nose.

"I don't see why not. You and Wally aren't likely to end up on opposing fields of battle, and you get along okay together, so my dual loyalties shouldn't ever come into serious conflict. Some cultures _did_ have a limit to the number of blood brothers you could have, but I've personally never read about anything lower than three, so…I think I'm good. Only if you want to, though. No pressure," he held up his hands. "And I mean that. _Don't_ agree to it if you don't want to do it, Tim. Please."

_I __do__, though. I do want to._ "I want to do it. But…do we have to drink it?" he wrinkled his nose.

"Yeah, I quailed at that part, too," came back commiseratingly. "But Wally made a really good point that kind of got me over it."

"What was that?"

"Well…we've been covered in each other's blood before. At some point, in some battle, our blood had already been mixed. This is supposed to be different, and purposeful, so…we drink it. We rubbed the cuts together, too, but the drinking was the important part. Like I said, it doesn't really taste like blood. And…it's worth it. It really is."

He took a long breath and let it out slowly. _I want this. I want to feel that bond you're talking about, the only you obviously have with Wally. I just…can't really believe that you want to have it with me, too… _"You know what, Dick? Let's…let's do it. Right now." _You've been the brother I never had practically since the minute we met,_ he mused._ If anyone should be blood-bound, it's us. _

"Epic," Dick grinned, eyes a little moist. "You get a glass of milk and a knife, and I'll grab a few things from the bathroom."

"Sure." Abandoning their popcorn, each went about his assigned task. "…What's with the laptop?" he asked, seeing him coming back with it tucked under one arm.

"Well," Dick explained as he set it on the counter, "a certain someone should be coming in from patrol right about now. And…I thought he might like to witness this."

"…That's brilliant."

"I try." Twelve passwords and a retina scan later, they were linked into the cave's network. "Hey, Bats, are you back yet?" Dick raised his voice a little in case he wasn't near the computer. "Go ahead and douse that blade with peroxide, Tim."

After a few seconds Batman stepped into the frame. "Dick? Is something wrong?" he asked, a slight note of annoyance in his voice at having been disturbed the instant he'd arrived home.

"Nope, nothing's wrong. I just need you to watch something real quick for me."

"…If you and Wally are going to make a regular habit of this, you're going to have to find someone else to be your third party. I don't have time to witness a blood oath for you every week."

"It's not Wally," he shook his head. "It's Tim." Hearing his name, the teen popped his head into the range of the webcam for a second.

"Hey."

"…Tim," he breathed back. "Are you sure you want to do this?"

"Of course I am. I mean…honestly, Dick and I should have been _born_ brothers, so…this makes sense," he shrugged.

"Eh, I blame the stork. He must have screwed up your delivery directions," Dick teased. "So, what do you say? Share the moment?"

"…Yes." _Of course_.

"We're not interrupting you?" he pressed, biting back a smirk._ You love it, you big dork. _

"I said yes, didn't I?"

"_Good_. I'd be really disappointed otherwise." He winked, then backed away and joined Tim beside the glass of milk. "Can you see?" he called at the computer.

"…Yes." Now that he knew they were occupied, he allowed himself to gulp heavily. _I can't believe they're going to…this is perfect. This is __too__ perfect. Dick and Wally were a good pair for this ritual, but Dick and Tim…well, it's like Tim said. They should have been born brothers._ He ruminated on that as his eldest son deftly opened a new cut beside the still-healing one and let the resultant blood drip into the glass. _I like this way better than if they had come into the world as kin,_ he decided as his third child followed suit and the wounds were placed against one another._ This way, they choose each other._

"…Dick?" Tim whispered just before the first sip was taken.

"Yeah?" he paused with the cup inches from his lips.

"…Are we supposed to say something?"

He smiled, remembering the first time he'd heard that question. "Do we really need to, Tim?"

"…I guess we've already said it all at least once, huh?"

"Yeah. And what we haven't said, we've shown." He took a drink, then handed over the beverage. When Tim lowered it from his mouth, only looking mildly green, he reached for it again.

"…What?"

"We have to pass it back and forth until we finish it. You know-"

"-all the way to the end," Tim finished for him. "Makes sense." _He was right,_ he thought. _It's not nearly as gross tasting as I thought it would be. And there's no question that it's worth it._

When the last drop had been drained and the empty vessel was securely on the counter, Tim found himself engulfed in a hug. "I love you. Don't ever forget that."

"…I love you, too. And I won't forget."

"Good." He released him, beamed, and then turned and glided over to the computer. "…Thanks," he said quietly as the water turned on behind him. "I thought you, ah, might want to see that. And I wanted it witnessed, too, but…it was mostly the first thing." He glanced away from the screen tactfully so that the man on the other end of the conversation could wipe away the wet trails that had slipped past the bottom of the cowl at some point during the brief rite.

"Dick…I…" _Thank __you__. If I live have a hundred sons, none of them could possibly match up to you, and no one else could ever get as close to doing so as Tim has._

"Just remember that we're gonna need you to witness again in five years, okay? So don't go anywhere," he said, a mild threat laced with subtext underlining his words. "Deal?"

"…I won't miss it."

"You better not. Anyway…I'll drop him off around noon tomorrow, okay?"

"You'll stay for Sunday lunch." It wasn't a question.

"Alfred's idea?" Dick smirked, knowing better.

"…Of course."

"No problem, I'll take Alfred's cooking over reheated pizza any day."

"Good." He acted if he were going to get up, then paused. "See you tomorrow…son."

His mouth quivered for a moment. _He almost never calls me that when he's in costume, and I know he hasn't since our last fight..._ "See you tomorrow," he replied, voice growing thick with emotion. "Dad." Then he shut the computer quickly and stood in place for a moment, trying to rein in the happy tears that threatened to overflow.

"…Should I actually wash these?" Tim's voice snapped him back to the present. "Because I think you're out of dish soap."

"No, it's fine," he shook his head, clearing his throat as he turned around. "Just chuck 'em in the sink, I'll deal with them later. Did you get your arm wrapped up?"

"Yeah, but you still need to do yours. Why'd you make a second line, anyway? I figured you would just open up the one you already have."

"I thought about that," he explained as he wiped at both incisions. "But…that scar is tied to Wally. I wanted yours to be separate. I don't know why, it just…felt right."

"Sure. I can see that."

"Anyway," Dick said, balling up their garbage and throwing it away. "You tired?"

"Kind of, but…we've still got popcorn."

"…Adult Swim?"

"_Yes_." He paused. "…Are you staying for lunch tomorrow?"

"Yup. It was made adamantly clear that Alfred wants me there. I'm sure Bruce is ambivalent, of course," he joked.

"…I'll bet he'd like it if you stayed over in Gotham tomorrow night," Tim suggested as they settled back on the couch. "We could patrol together, all three of us."

_I do love it when we do that,_ he sighed internally. "Hmm…I don't work until Monday afternoon. Maybe I'll pack a bag just in case and see how things go."

"Dick, c'mon, just agree. Please?"

"…I know what this is. You're having trouble with French again, aren't you?"

"No, it's…math," he confessed, embarrassed.

"Math? You? Since when?"

"Since my teacher first uttered the word 'isoperimetry.'"

"Ooh. Isoperimetry. Excellent," the ex-Mathlete rubbed his hands together.

"…You sicken me a little when it comes to numbers."

"Okay, you win," he threw up his hands. "I'll stay the night. It's probably going to _take_ most of the night to explain that particular topic, so I don't really have a lot of choice, do I?"

"…Thanks, Dick. I appreciate it."

"Hey," he shrugged as he turned on the television. "That's what brothers are for."

Tim smiled softly, fingering the edge of his bandage. "Yeah," he replied slowly. _It's a good thing I have such a great one._

**Author's Note: I've never really written Tim before, so please let me know if there is something grossly off about my characterization. Thanks to everyone for reading, and extra thanks to those of you who have been so kind as to review. **_  
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**Also, a special note to guest reviewer bakedcat: thank you! I love hearing that a little tidbit I've put into a story has connected with a reader. :D**


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